


seaside traditions

by wintersrose616



Series: sun warm, salt stain [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersrose616/pseuds/wintersrose616
Summary: It is with the knowledge that Sylvain has always been an honorary Fraldarius in mind, Dimitri finds himself making a phone call, waiting only three rings before the line picks up with a gruff, "What?""Felix! I have a favour I must ask of you."He feels as if he can see Felix pinching his brow, already ready to hang up and leave Dimitri to his half-formed plan. Instead, he just asks, "What is it?""I need to return to the Kingdom for a bit," Dimitri says, easily, a script he has been repeating to himself since first deciding to call. "I also need Sylvain not to know about it.""And?" comes Felix's exasperated prod."And I am aware your father takes yearly trips inland around this time."There is silence as his answer, silence that draws on for so long Dimitri pulls the phone away to make sure the call hasn't been ended. When he brings it back to his ear, he’s met with Felix's voice."You want me to ask my father to invite Sylvain on our family vacation?".Dimitri decides that there's plenty of things from the Kingdom hecan'tshow Sylvain, but one traditional aspect of life there that he can bring to the surface.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: sun warm, salt stain [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779427
Comments: 20
Kudos: 88





	seaside traditions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm wringing this au for any bit of serotonin it will give me and I am not sorry.

Dimitri wakes to sunbeams dancing across his face, a welcomed warmth slung snugly across his chest, pressed close to his side as he blinks his eye open, peering sleepily at the open curtains from the patio doors they had forgotten to draw shut before going upstairs the night before. Sylvain’s face is nestled in his neck, lips parted enough that Dimitri can feel the drool drying on his collarbone as he sleeps steadily at his side. He lifts the hand not trapped beneath Sylvain, rubbing at his face and tilting his head to blindly butt his nose against Sylvain’s forehead. 

Sylvain makes a snorted sound, smacking his lips together as he readjusts, the sound of Dimitri’s snort of amusement not loud enough to wake him up. He nuzzles against Dimitri’s neck, a leg joining the arm thrown across him, as if Sylvain’s sleeping mind has told him if he clings tighter, Dimitri won’t leave.

As if Dimitri would rather be anywhere else than right there, nestled under their warm blankets, the rising sun sending rays in from the tall windows to welcome them slowly, gently into a new day. 

He turns in Sylvain’s grasp, and Sylvain’s head falls back against the pillows. The golden light casts his skin in a glow, the freckles smattered across his nose and cheeks constellations Dimitri is always tempted to trace with his lips. Today he settles for trailing his hand along the line of Sylvain’s jaw, brushing orange strands from his eyes to press the gentlest of kisses to his forehead before settling back again with his palm smoothing down his neck. 

The sunlight catches on the metal on his finger, sending a glimmering light across the blue stone set against silvered scales. Dimitri smiles when he looks at it, knowing the effort Sylvain had gone through just to get it where it belonged, settled at the base of his finger. 

There are a lot of things he is still unsure of, when it comes to human traditions, their customs when it comes to matehood and marriage. Sylvain’s always been curious, asking about merfolk life, but Dimitri has never delved into their traditions on the subject of life partners before—largely because Sylvain has never asked after that part in detail. Even now, with it being well over two moons since Sylvain had first given him the ring, Dimitri hasn’t done anything following merfolk tradition for this step. He knows Sylvain knows Dimitri loves him, that he has no regrets on coming to land for him, but there is always the pinpricks of doubt that he will enjoy Dimitri bringing merfolk tradition into their relationship. It’s not easy to translate most of their courtship rituals into life on the surface, but there is one he thinks he could manage, upon his next return to the Kingdom.

Except the next planned return is nearly three months away, and he has no desire to wait that long. 

For merfolk, asking for matehood, _marriage_ , wasn’t a question that happened with an exchange of rings. Merfolk gave their beloved a weapon of choice—be it a sword or spear, or any sort that could assist in a hunt. Normally, the weapon of choice was gifted to a potential mate after they had already been courting, given to showcase a life sworn to hunting together and providing for one another in matehood. He and Sylvain had already skipped a few steps to this point, but Dimitri doesn’t mind. 

Sylvain wouldn’t understand—he didn’t hunt. He has no idea what Sylvain would do with one if Dimitri presented him with the option. The ceremonial weapon would be met with confusion at best and ill-received at worst. All of their food came from the stores, purchased with Sylvain’s hard-earned money. The closest he and Sylvain had done to mutual hunting was when they had been invited to a fishing trip by Sylvain’s _swimming teacher_ , of all people, and Sylvain had proven a less than capable fisher during their trip, while Dimitri’s hands had snapped a rod clear in two before they were sequestered to sitting together on the dock away from the water. Byleth had caught all of their dinners for them, their eyes only barely showing how pleased they were to hand over the cooler full of fish to Sylvain, Ingrid, and Felix. 

He wonders, though. _Wants_ , he thinks is better. He wants to show Sylvain just how much he cares, how much he’s loved every moment they’ve spent together, how much he desperately wants to spend the rest of their days together. The rings were one thing—important enough that Dimitri understands, knows just how Sylvain views them—but he wants something of _his_ to show him.

Sylvain’s hand slides across his skin where his sleep shirt is rucked up, the warmed metal of his own ring pressing against the small of Dimitri’s back. Dimitri’s been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the bleary blinking on the pillow across from him as Sylvain woke, sleepy, brown eyes crinkled at the corners with affection when Dimitri startled out of his thoughts to meet his gaze. 

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice sleep thick. 

Dimitri smiles, leaning forward, and Sylvain obliges with a gentle press of his lips, before he tugs him closer, calf flexing against Dimitri’s to keep him close. 

“Sleep well?” Sylvain asks. 

Dimitri nods, closing his eye and basking in Sylvain’s embrace, the feel of his fingers tracing nonsensical patterns across the scars that smatter his back. “Did you?”

“Always do with you beside me, sweetheart.” A soft kiss is pressed to his forehead. “You looked lost in thought,” he murmurs, lips brushing the top of Dimitri’s head, breath rustling soft strands. 

“I was,” Dimitri says, “but they were good thoughts.” 

He doesn’t need to look to know Sylvain’s smiling. “Good, hm? Was I in them?” 

“Always,” Dimitri assures, lips parting to tell him more, but the bright, sharp sound of Sylvain’s alarm going off cuts him off. 

Sylvain groans, rolling away to grab his phone and shut the offending noise off. “What if I told Holst I can’t go in today?” 

“I think that would make Holst very sad.” 

Sylvain snorts, eyes still on his phone as they flick over whatever messages had come in during the night. “Probably. His puppy dog eyes have nothing on Hilda’s, though. They’re just sort of creepy.” 

Dimitri huffs an amused laugh. “That isn’t very nice.” 

Sylvain chuckles warmly, setting his phone aside to press a kiss to Dimitri’s cheek before he moves to climb from the bed. “I know. Felix is rubbing off on me.” 

Dimitri stays in bed for a moment longer stretching languidly, enjoying the view as Sylvain gathers clothes from the dresser and heads to the bathroom to ready for the day. As soon as he hears the  
shower start, he heads downstairs, pressing the button on the machine for the coffee Sylvain had prepped the night before to start. 

When Sylvain pads downstairs, smelling of his lotions and hair oils, Dimitri’s entranced, falling back against him when his arms wind about his waist. Sylvain presses a few light kisses to his neck, swaying them back and forth, before the coffee machine gurgles and he breaks away with a laugh as he goes to get them mugs. 

The last twenty minutes before Sylvain _has_ to leave before he’s late are spent at the island, picking apart a quick breakfast of toast and jam while Sylvain tries to think up dinner plans. 

“I don’t think ‘Thea’s working until midnight, so we definitely can’t go there. At least for _first_ dinner.”

“First dinner,” Dimitri echoes, raising a brow.

Sylvain smirks at him from over the rim of his coffee mug. “There have been plenty of nights where I’ve had to have second dinners at the diner, my love. It’s always fun.”

Dimitri narrows his eye. “Is it?”

The question earns him a laugh, a kiss to his cheek, and a promise to text him if he thinks of anything exciting. Dimitri’s day is largely going to be spent at home—unless Hilda comes by to drag him out shopping, but he hasn’t heard anything from her so far. Sylvain finally heads off for work with a final kiss at the doorway, a _have a good day, beloved,_ falling from Dimitri’s lips before Sylvain slips out the door. 

He can hear the jeep rumble to life moments before it shambles away, and Dimitri decides he’s got a full day to _plot_.

**.**

Dimitri has spent most of his day _thinking_. He’s finished up the chores Sylvain had told him he would do when he got home—washed their breakfast dishes, swept the hardwood floors downstairs—and has sat and rearranged the bookshelf full of trinkets from various trips, the top adorned with seashells Dimitri had gifted Sylvain throughout their sunset beach meetings before Dimitri had even dreamt up that those hours could lead to where he is now. 

His thoughts throughout all of the day, though, had settled down into one.

Sylvain is an ‘ _honorary_ ’ Fraldarius, and has been since he started spending more nights there than at his own house in his early adolescence. This is a fact Dimitri knows well. He's been invited over alongside Sylvain for months now whenever Rodrigue extends an invitation to family dinner night (and, sometimes when he does not, he welcomes both Dimitri and Sylvain inside with only the slightest hint of exasperation when they show up unannounced).

It is with that knowledge in mind, he finds himself making a phone call only an hour before Sylvain is due to return home, waiting only three rings before the line picks up with a gruff, _"What?_ "

"Felix! Good evening!"

There's a long, drawn out sigh on the other end of the call. "Dimitri."

"I have a favour I must ask of you."

Another sigh, pinched off by a groan. "Listen, I'm not helping plan a mermaid wedding. That's what Hilda and Dorothea have already fought over the opportunity."

"I do not—." Dimitri blinks, brows furrowing. "I am not asking you to plan our. . .wedding. What I must ask is incredibly selfish, and I understand as Sylvain's best friend, if you would prefer not to."

He feels as if he can see Felix pinching his brow, already ready to hang up and leave Dimitri to his half-formed plan. Instead, he just asks, "What is it?"

"I need to return to the Kingdom for a bit," Dimitri says, easily, a script he has been repeating to himself since first deciding to call. "I also need Sylvain not to know about it."

"And?" comes Felix's exasperated prod.

"And I am aware your father takes yearly trips inland around this time."

There is silence as his answer, silence that draws on for so long Dimitri pulls the phone away to make sure the call hasn't been ended. When he brings it back to his ear, he’s met with Felix's voice, drenched in disbelief.

"You want me to ask my father to invite Sylvain on our family vacation?"

Repeated back to him, Dimitri knows how bewildering and shameless the question sounds. Still, Felix is his best hope, unless he could convince Hilda to drag Sylvain away for a week. Despite Felix being unable to see him, he straightens his shoulders, ignoring the heat rushing through his face as he states, "Yes." 

There’s a mangled, choked sound that could either be static over the line or Felix cutting himself off from saying anything that could be considered rude. There’s a few moments where Dimitri hears him inhale and slowly exhale.

“Why?” he asks, voice terse.

“I need to return to the Kingdom—”

“You _said that_ already,” Felix states. “ _Why_? I thought you and Sylvain planned these out with Claude and had a schedule.”

“We do,” he assures. “I just—. I need to get something from there, for Sylvain.”

“What could you possibly bring Sylvain from there that’s _imperative_ you need to get it now?” 

“It is—.” He stops, thinking over his words. “Some of our traditions differ from humans’,” he explains, words picked carefully. “We do not exchange rings to signify matehood and marriage—”

_“‘Matehood?’”_

“—there are other steps, other traditions.” 

A huffed breath crackles over the phone. “So you’re telling me you want me to invite Sylvain along on my family’s traditional vacation, so you can run back home to get him something to—to what? Mark him as yours? You already have the rings.”

“Yes, and I am grateful and love them—but the rings are _human_. I am not.”

Felix’s silence marks the end of the argument. There’s a long, long moment before there’s a groaned, _“Fine_ ,” and Felix hangs up before Dimitri has the chance to thank him.

As soon as the phone call’s done, Dimitri busies himself with getting dinner prepped. He isn’t the best cook, but Sylvain’s sent him a detailed list of the marinade he wants for the meat to rest in before he gets back from work to get everything else ready. Dimitri’s good with a recipe, even though he hesitates with the seasonings. Sylvain’s written measurements are carefully followed, Dimitri sniffing every spice he adds in before the marinade is ready. 

He’s just finished washing the spoons out when his ears pick up the familiar noise of the jeep bumbling its arrival, and moments later, as he’s drying the tools off, he hears the sound of Sylvain’s keys in the door and hurries to go greet him, arms wrapping around him as soon as the door’s opened. 

Sylvain’s laughter is a welcomed greeting when Dimitri tugs him close.

“What happened?” Sylvain asks, trying to balance himself in Dimitri’s arms while also attempting to step out of his shoes. “Did Hilda actually take you shopping?”

Dimitri shakes his head, pulling back to place a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Is it wrong for me to miss you while you’re away, beloved?” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sylvain groans, placing his palms to Dimitri’s cheeks to tug him close for a proper kiss. “You’ve got to stop saying things like that. I’ll never want to leave.” 

_Hmm._ Dimitri smiles as he pulls back, the thought a complete turn from what he wants Sylvain to do. “Holst would be upset if you didn’t leave.”

“Yeah, but I could handle him.”

Dimitri narrows his eye, feeling his lips try to curl up in a teasing smile. “And Glenn, who got you the job with Holst?” 

Sylvain’s smile freezes, the minute terror that fills his honeyed gaze almost making Dimitri feel guilty for the question, but his amusement wins out as Sylvain’s shoulders shudder. They move out of the doorway as Sylvain loosens his tie.

“I thought you said you’d always protect me from Glenn,” he says, voice a half-whine as his lips puff out into a pout.

Dimitri hums. “I did, didn’t I?” He’s trying to hide his smile, but it’s hard with the bright delight shimmering in Sylvain’s eyes. “I suppose I could, but then _I_ would have to figure out how to get a job.”

“You could get a job at Rodrigue’s. He’d be willing to hire you as a paper shredder, I’m sure.” 

His brows furrow. “A paper shredder?”

“Well, you’d have to go to law school to do more there, and that brings us back to the first problem, love.”

Their banter tapers off as Sylvain changes before they’re basically hip to hip in the kitchen, Sylvain moving about like he’s in his prime spot. He leaves Dimitri at the counter, carefully chopping up vegetables as he gathers everything else. They’re only part way through prepping everything else when Sylvain’s phone rings, and he scoops it up as he moves, answering it with a delighted, “Hey, Fe!”

Sylvain balances his phone against his shoulder as he pulls the marinated meat out of the fridge, bumping the door shut with his hip as he brings the bowl over. The conversation is brief—almost entirely one-sided with Felix doing most of the talking. Dimitri can’t hear much over the rhythmic motion of chopping the carrots up, but he does listen as Sylvain goes from pleased, to mildly confused, to downright baffled in his responses. 

“Wait, what do you mean I’m—?” He cuts off. “Felix? _Hello? Fe?_ ” Sylvain pulls the phone from his face, frowning down at it and the apparently ended phone call. 

“Is everything alright?” 

Sylvian’s brows are furrowed, lips parted just slightly, and he brings his confused stare to Dimitri. “He told me to pack a bag.” 

Dimitri feels a little thrill go through him at that, and he tries to hide his smile by looking back down to the cutting board. “He did?” 

“He—. Well, I mean—.” Sylvain stops. Dimitri sees him shake his head. “I guess I’m going on vacation.” 

“Oh? That’s wonderful!” 

He can feel Sylvain peering at—Dimitri has never been that great at getting things by him—but Sylvain just huffs a breath after a moment. “Yeah, I guess. But—. I mean, I have to call Holst. He’s just not going to let me take two weeks off because Rodrigue wants me on their family vacation for some wild reason.” 

Dimitri tries not to frown at the mention of that. It was an oversight he wished he hadn’t missed. He did not think Hilda would be nearly as forthcoming to help them convince her brother without some sort of remittance. 

Fortunately enough for Dimitri, Felix is far more used to these things than he is. He obviously knew Dimitri wouldn’t think about Sylvain’s work. When Sylvain calls Holst moments later, the call is _also_ brief and once again leaves Sylvain more baffled than he had been at the start of the day. 

“What did Holst say?” Dimitri asks, trying for an innocent tone as Sylvain stares at his phone with confusion writ across his expression.

“He said he already knew about the vacation and that it was fine.” Sylvain’s eyes narrow. “Glenn must have told him to let me go.” 

“How exciting,” Dimitri says, beaming. 

Sylvain’s narrowed eyes look up, an eyebrow quirking out of the furrow. “Is it?” 

“You enjoy Felix’s company, do you not? And you do deserve a vacation, my love.” 

“Hmm.” 

“I think you should go,” Dimitri tells him. “It will be fun.” 

“But _you_ can’t come with,” says Sylvain. “That’s not fair to you, sweetheart.” 

“I mean no offense, but I do not think I would have quite as much fun with the Fraldarius’ yearly vacation as you will.” Dimitri smiles. “I will be fine on my own.” 

“I’m not saying you won’t be,” Sylvain says. “I’m just. . .suspicious.” 

Dimitri tilts his head. “This is the first time since you left the Gautier estate that you’re in a comfortable enough place to go with on a vacation this long. Rodrigue must know that, too, and wanted you to come with.” 

It’s not an excuse Dimitri had thought of until right that second, and based on how Sylvain’s expression morphs, just slightly, as he rolls his shoulders and hums, not one he had thought of, either. “I guess,” he relents, a moment later. “Rodrigue’s always trying to _dad_ us.” 

“Can you blame him for that, beloved? With how much we go over there, he would be remiss to think of you as anything other than his third son.” 

_That_ gets a small smile, the quick curl of his lips before Sylvain lets out a low laugh before nodding. “Yeah, alright, that’s fair. C’mon, let's finish dinner.”

**.**

Rodrigue’s itinerary for the trip starts at sunrise. He had told Sylvain to be ready for their arrival, and his alarm had woken them both up long before the sun had started to rise, so Sylvain could shower and get ready. 

Sylvain’s bag rests on the front step as they sit on the stairs, waiting for the Fraldarius family van to arrive. It’s a chilled morning, their breaths mingling in small clouds as they sit next to each other. Sylvain looks good in the low, pink hues of early dawn. Dimiitri thinks he looks good all the time, truly, but his skin looks golden, freckles swept along the bridge of his nose, a few smattered further down his neck, to the collar of his shirt where Dimitri can spot the purpling mark of a love bite he had placed the night before barely hidden. 

Dimitri’s still in his sleep clothes, hair unwashed. He has plans to go back to sleep for a few hours after they’ve left, before his mind can start whirring with possibilities on how to successfully enact his plan. He enjoys the quiet, though, birds just starting to chirp, the crashing sounds of the ocean close enough to hear, but far enough that he can’t taste salt on his tongue. Sylvain and he chat idly in low murmurs, as if neither wishes to disturb the peace of the morning just quite yet.

Sylvain’s in the midst of a question, still pondering just _why_ he’s been roped into the vacation as Dimitri’s hand moves without him fully realizing it. Sylvain cuts off when Dimitri’s thumb presses down on the skin of his neck, right against the fresh bite mark, and he inhales a sharp hiss, giving Dimitri a look that’s all low fire, warmth pooled in golden-amber. 

His smirk is sly as Dimitri looks away, feeling the rush of heat to his face, the tell-tale sign of a blush forming. Before he can take his hand back, Sylvain nabs it, lacing their fingers together and bringing it up to press kisses against his knuckles, one long, lingering one against silvered scales and a bright sapphire. It brings a smile to his lips, unprecedented, and when Sylvain releases him to lift his arm, Dimitri crashes against his side like the tide to the sands, nuzzling into his warmth.

Dimitri’s grinning by the time Rodrigue pulls up in front of their home, the van looking over packed for a two-week trip inland with four people in total. Sylvain has been suspicious over the past few days, but hadn’t voiced any questions other than to ask Dimitri which outfits he thought Sylvain would look best in. 

Glenn sits up in the passenger seat, eyes downcast, face lit with the dull dim of a phone, as Rodrigue waves from the driver’s side. Dimitri rises with Sylvain, smiling happily as Felix crawls out of the backseat, buried in an oversized sweatshirt. Rodrigue rolls down his window to call out greetings, breaking the soft lull of the morning with his cheerful tone. 

Felix stands next to the van as Sylvain gathers his bag, staring at Dimitri with dead eyes and his arms crossed. As soon as Sylvain’s passed him to load his bag in, Felix marches forward, leaning close to hiss, “Never ask me for another favour again."

Before Dimitri can respond, Sylvain is back, squeezing him into a hug and peppering his cheeks with kisses, brushing loose locks behind his ears.

"I'm going to miss you every night," he says in between his pecked kisses. "Every night."

“It’s only two weeks, beloved,” Dimitri assures, though he preens under the attention anyway.

Sylvain tries to pout, lips puffing out, but he can see the joy in his eyes. “I’ll still miss you, sweetheart.”

“I’ll miss you, too, but honestly—”

"Hurry up, Sylvain!" Felix snaps, already clambering back into the car.

Sylvain presses a final kiss to the tip of Dimitri's nose. "Remember, if Hilda asks you to go out, you can tell her no."

"I have no plans to go. . .' _clubbing,_ ' with her," Dimitri assures. “You have to go.”

“I know, I know.” Sylvain detangles himself, stepping away as if the distance pains him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too—”

“Syl _vain_!” comes Felix’s shout, and he makes a noise, lifting his hand in a quick wave and hurrying to the car. 

Dimitri waits until the van is out of sight before he walks back inside, climbing the staircase to fall face first back into the bed, nose buried in Sylvain’s pillow.

**.**

There were many small steps to his plan that Dimitri had to think through before enacting it. He kept a change of clothes and his keys packed tightly in one of their spare dry bags, leaving enough space for the clothes he was wearing. His cell phone rests, fully charged on the nightstand, a text to Sylvain letting him know everything was fine, he was not going out with Hilda, and he loved him sent, read, and responded to with a string of hearts. 

There is truly only one part of his plan that pains him. He sits on the bed edge, awaiting another message, twisting the band on his finger. The ring will not fit when he’s back in the water. At best, he would lose circulation in his claw because of it, the silvered scales embedding themselves into his skin. At worst, the transformation would mangle it beyond recognition and repair, and Dimitri cannot dream of anything happening to it. 

With great reluctance, he slips it off, nestling it in the nightstand next to spare chargers and the items that compile what Sylvain calls their _goody stash_ just to make Dimitri blush. He knows it will stay safe there, better than risking it to the waves or his own hands, but he still feels upset at the thought of leaving it behind.

He has barely a second more to dwell, though. He hears the sounds of a car out front parking before his phone blips with a new message and he hastily hurries downstairs, locking the door behind him. 

Ferdinand is as cheerful as he always is, as Dimitri folds himself into the passenger seat with the fourth _thank you_ he’s told him that morning. He’s assured, again, that Ferdinand had no issues with picking him up. 

Dimitri had a very slim list of people he could trust with his plan. Ferdinand had won out because he is a good, safe companion that doesn’t ask Dimitri too many questions. 

He is also the only other person in Sylvain’s friend group that can drive, and owns a car. 

They’ve pulled onto a back road far enough out that they haven’t passed any other cars. Despite Dimitri knowing Dorothea will ask later on, the only question Ferdinand asks is if Dimitri is _sure_ he doesn’t want someone with him at the beach. Dimitri assures him that he knows the beach well and will be fine making his way back.

“Do not worry,” he says as he opens the door. “Thank you again!” 

The crease to Ferdinand's brow tells him he will worry—already _is_ worrying—but he nods anyway, driving off only moments after Dimitri’s started the trek down towards the shore. 

There is no well-worn path that he takes. The beach he aims for is private, unvisited even by himself in the past few months, but it is a place he knows well. He thinks he may have overestimated how easy he’ll have it when he needs to walk home from there, but it is easy enough to find his way to a familiar shore. 

The Gautier estates’s private beaches hold no sign of human activity, which is why Dimitri chose it.

He decides soon enough that he has become far too spoiled by Sylvain always being by his side when he transforms. The process is no quicker, or less painful, when Sylvain is there, but his presence during it always puts Dimitri’s mind at ease. Here, alone, the dry bag stashed under a few rocks high enough on the shore that the tide wouldn’t wash it away, his anxiety raises, ebbing and flowing as he tries to remember _deep breaths, deep breaths_. He is unsure just what he’s really anxious about. The bag is hidden enough that even the most desperate of beach goers wouldn’t stumble upon it if they dared to walk across the Gautier property, and he has done this before, enough times that he knows what to expect. Once he’s finished, his body lounging in the shallows as he tries to recover his breath, waves lapping at the sands and his tail, he chalks up the extra anxiety to not telling Sylvain, nor telling the others. 

He hadn’t told _anyone_ he would be returning early. It wasn’t something that was possible, in the short time frame he’s given himself. Still, he knows he will be welcomed back, and as soon as his arms no longer ache, he pushes himself into the water, tail flicking himself deeper as he swims.

The currents carry him swiftly through the territory, until he emerges at the edge of the city. The restoration efforts have done wonders for it. Dimitri can hardly see the scars of war lingering in the streets. All he can see are the efforts of his friends in the sight of people out and about, enjoying the calm currents and low light from the sunbeams filtering down from the surface. 

Despite not sending ahead for his return, and none of his friends acting as an escort to welcome him back, the guards and common merfolk all recognize him immediately. _Former_ Saviour King Dimitri is still welcomed with bright smiles, children’s laughter, and the happiness that was once nothing more than a fever dream to tide him over in the darkest depths of the war. 

He makes his way to the castle, a gaggle of small children swimming happily after him, chattering excitedly. Dimitri listens to their stories, babbling bubbles bursting from their mouths as they inform him of their most dire adventures, out to the coral reef that Dedue’s spent extra effort in restoring to the point where it is safe for them to venture out to once more. 

The guards at the castle gates are surprised to see him, but unsurprised by his collection of children. He waits just a moment longer at the gates, allowing all of the children the equal time to tell him of their stories, before they’re off, swimming frantically back to their homes to no doubt tell their parents about the former King returning. 

He greets the guards with smiles and pleasantries, asking after them and their families, but before he can get full answers, the front doors of the castle are bursting open in a flurry of water, followed by bright, orange scales and even brighter, orange hair as Annette launches herself through the current to wrap her arms about his neck. 

Dimitri catches her with a startled laugh, her momentum propelling them into a spiral as he tries to keep them upright, her own laughter a welcomed greeting, nestled close to his fins.

“You’re home early!” she declares, happily, pulling back to inspect. “What’s happened?”

“I have good news,” he tells her, lest she start to worry. “Are the others all busy?”

“No more than usual.” Her claws tangle with his, fingers interlocking. “Come, come, Dedue and I just finished lunch when one of the servants said they saw you and a school of children near the market.”

Dimitri lets her tug him along, her tail swishing through the water with excitement as she all but interrogates him. He gives her half-answers, not wanting to spoil the true nature of his return until all of their friends are gathered. The only thing he feels content to tell her in full is when she asks after Sylvain, and how he’s been.

“He’s quite well,” he tells her, her smile so infectiously bright Dimitri’s lips curl up at the sight of it. “He’s on a trip with his family.”

“ _That_ explains your sudden arrival!” Annette says, still beaming. “Not that any of us would complain at you visiting!”

Her assurance is quick, embarrassment shading her face a bright red, but Dimitri chuckles, squeezing his claws around hers to reassure her he doesn’t mind. It isn’t something he had planned in detail, and would have at least _tried_ to get closer to the planned arrival but his time frame to enact this without Sylvain finding out was slim.

“Ah, I _thought_ I heard too many children outside the gates!” 

Annette’s still gripping his hand as they come around a corner, right where Claude awaits, Caspar at his side. Claude’s smile is wide when he spots Dimitri, eyes crinkling at the corners as Annette releases him so he can be pushed into two different hugs. Caspar’s enthusiastic, asking after the surface in the same breath he asks if there’s any new _human lingo_ Dimitri has learned. His disappointment lasts only a fraction of a second at Dimitri’s statement that, _no, he has not_ , before he’s heading off to go hunt down Ashe and Mercedes.

Annette rushes both of them down the halls to where Dedue awaits, his surprise obvious, his joy even more so, and the squeezed hug Dimitri gets out of him makes him feel warmth, truly welcomed back. 

“I have good news—great news, actually,” Dimitri tells him, noting the small quirk of surprise in Dedue’s brow. 

“The others should be here for it, then,” says Dedue. He glances over Dimitri’s shoulder, smiling slightly at Annette. “Has Caspar gone to collect them?” 

“Yes!” Annette swims forward, looping her arm with Dimitri’s. “Once you’ve told your good news, there’s other news we can tell you, too!” 

He feels his shoulders swell with relief at that sound of more good news from the Kingdom. The progress they’ve made with the Kingdom has always taken his breath away, their hard work and dedication something that makes Dimitri know he has left the realm in the right hands—the capable ones. It’s slow-going—it had been before he abdicated, before he and Claude had drawn up the declaration that the Kingdom would no longer have a king—but they’ve done _so much_ and Dimitri is nothing but proud of them, grateful that he hadn’t lost any of them in the war.

Mercedes and Ashe appear in the whirlwind that follows Caspar as he bursts through the archway, showcasing Dimitri off with a lavish gesture of his arms. Their smiles are infectious, his lips curling up at the sight of them as Mercedes throws her arms about his neck and Ashe greets him with a beaming grin. 

“So, Your Royalness,” Claude drawls, after they’re all finished the standard, small pleasantries have been exchanged, a brief catch up on how they’ve been in the past few months, “what brings you back so soon? I thought you still have a few more months.”

He knows Claude is as meticulous about schedules and plannings as he is, so his phrasing makes Dimitri roll his eye. 

“I came here because I need to get something for Sylvain.”

“Ooh, what is it?” Annette asks. “I told him the last time we were at the surface I’d bring him some of Mercie’s woven kelp—is he that desperate for it?”

“I have some extra skeins, if you’d like to bring them with you, Dimitri,” Mercedes says.

Dimitri huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. “Thank you both, but no, I—.” He doesn’t know why he feels heat rushing to his face. This isn’t something outlandishly over the top. He’s already shown his dedication to Sylvain by deciding to live his life on the surface instead of under the waters. This plan of his is really just ceremonial, to showcase in the traditional way that he and Sylvain have decided to spend their lives with one another. “I need a trident made.”

He’s met with silence for a moment, and he feels the prickling of fear shiver down his spine as he keeps his eye down on the table. It takes barely a breath, barely a heartbeat, before there’s the sounds of scales slapping down on the table and he follows the noise, startled, to see Annette with her palms slammed down. 

“You’re going to make him your mate!” she declares.

“Oh, I think that’s a ship that’s long since sailed,” says Claude.

Dimitri’s face feels like it’s been lit by fire at the tone, and the suggestive lift of Claude’s brow when he looks at him in minute betrayal does nothing to help his blush. 

It’s _traditional_ , a piece of his heritage he can share with Sylvain above the water’s surface. 

“I need a trident,” he repeats, trying to ignore the way his voice hitches. He clears his throat. “Or perhaps a lance.” A frown tilts at his lips as he looks towards Claude, whose bright eyes are narrowed in that way that makes Dimitri feel like he’s never been able to hide anything from him. “I could just give him Areadbhar, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t like a lance made of bones in the house.” 

Claude blinks at him, expression flickering briefly to surprise as he shakes his head, hair swishing in the currents the movement creates. “Dimitri, humans don’t—.” He pauses, tilting his head as he thinks his words over. “Humans don’t do the weapon thing, they exchange _rings_.” 

“Oh, I’m aware,” he says, barely noticing the wide-eyed look he’s given from Claude before he turns to Dedue. “I think something simple would be best, though.” Dedue nods his agreement, as Dimitri feels the beginning of fretting happening. He should have _asked_ Sylvain how he felt about this before he decided to go through with it. He should have seen how he would feel to have a weapon in their home. “Sylvain is not a weapon enthusiast like one of his friends is. Perhaps I should have asked Felix for that advice, as well.” 

“Wait, wait, _wait_ , hold on, one second!” Claude says. “You mean you _know_ humans exchange rings, and still want to give him a _spear_?” 

“A lance,” Dimitri corrects, mildly, waving his hand through the water, feeling his brows pinch and a headache starting to form from overthinking. “Sylvain’s always been interested in our culture, though, so I assumed he would like this on top of the rings.” 

“On _top of—? You two are already engaged?_ ” 

It’s been a very long time since Dimitri’s heard Claude so flustered, so completely out of the loop on something. He tries to revel in that as their other friends erupt, the knowledge of Dimitri _wanting_ to ask Sylvain for matehood being completely overridden by them already _agreeing_ on it. 

“You don’t _truly_ need the lance, then,” Mercedes says, a clawed hand covering her delighted smile. “That’s so exciting, Dimitri!” 

“Humans have much more complicated rituals when it comes to this,” he explains. “Sylvain has agreed that there is ‘ _no rush_ ,’ but his friends are excited over the prospect of it.” 

“Did Hilda make your rings?” Claude asks. 

“She made the one I gave Sylvain, yes,” Dimitri tells him, smiling. “She was very pleased.” 

“I’m sure she was,” he says, huffing a small laugh, “Her and ‘Thea are probably desperate to plan your beachside wedding.” 

“I do not believe Sylvain wants something outlandish,” Dimitri tells him, “but Hilda is very determined to help us plan whatever we desire.” 

“Sounds like her. So, a _spear_.”

He frowns at him, spotting the familiar quirk to Claude’s smirk, telling him he’s _trying_ to rile Dimitri up. He refuses to take the bait, lifting his chin instead of allowing his instinctive response of correcting him to be spoken. He turns to Dedue, whose eyes hold all of the joy he cannot express in words alone.

“I am hoping to give him a _lance_ —,” Dimitri ignores Claude’s snort of amusement, “—so I will be needing to visit the smith.”

“They will love to see you again,” says Dedue, eyes flickering over to Claude before returning to him, a small smile lifting his lips. “I will go with you.”

“We’ll all have to have dinner together,” Mercedes declares. “Oh, I’m so glad you decided to surprise us.”

It takes them a few moments to leave, the warmth and affection Dimitri gets from the others making his chest swell, fit to burst. After that, though, he leaves with Dedue, swimming through the halls that he’s known since his childhood.

The way to the smith is as familiar to Dimitri as any other spot within the castle's halls. Nestled in the northwestern corner, dug underneath the seafloor, Dimitri had spent most of his youth apologizing to the smith for the weapons he broke by sheer strength alone.

While they make their way through the water, Dimitri talks— _frets_ —but Dedue is as patient as he’s ever been as Dimitri worries. 

“I doubt he will even hesitate before accepting it, Dimitri.”

“But I have yet to explain to him what happens in our traditional courtships,” Dimitri protests, though his voice sounds weak. “I fear I’ll mess it up.”

Dedue hums. “I do not think you have any reason to fear, but I understand the nerves, regardless. You love Sylvain, and he loves you.”

“Even still—”

"Even still, it is a tradition that brings nerves alight,” Dedue says. “When I gave my offering to Annette, she barely let me turn around before accepting it."

“But Annette at least understands how you—.” Dimitri stops short. “Wait.” He whirls, hair billowing out in the water around his face as he looks to Dedue in shock. “What did you say?” 

Dedue’s smiling, a small, sly smile, looking pleased with himself. “When I gave my offering to Annette,” he repeats, speaking slower, “she barely let me turn around before accepting it.”

“ _Dedue!_ ” 

The chuckle that falls from his lips is full of happiness. Dimitri reaches for him, squeezing clawed fingers around his own before he pulls Dedue into an embrace.

“I had no idea!” 

“We had plans to tell you at your next visit,” Dedue says, still smiling as they pull apart to continue on their way. “Annette was. . . _ecstatic_. Ashe said he heard her squealing from the courtyard.”

“As she has ever right to be!” Dimitri insists. “I am happy for you, my friend.”

“As am I,” Dedue says. “Sylvain will understand, Dimitri, and even if he doesn’t at first, once you explain, I am certain we will hear him here in the Kingdom.”

He should not be as surprised as he feels at how quickly Dedue’s reassurance puts his mind at ease. He’s known them all far too long to even suspect they would lie to him, especially about this.

“You are right, of course,” he relents, smiling. “I am overthinking things.”

“You should have seen me,” Dedue says, quirking a brow. “I believe I almost drove Claude to the surface.”

“ _You?_ ” Dimitri’s eye narrows. “I have a hard time believing that.”

Dedue smiles that tiny, sly smirk again and shrugs. “Come—the smith awaits.”

****

**.**

It takes the smith seven days to make Dimitri a lance that he knows is befitting for an offering to Sylvain. 

The lance is gold-plated, the point of it sharpened marble for aesthetic over durability. He thinks it is one of the most beautiful weapons he’s seen—even if it is fundamentally useless as anything other than a pretty wall adornment. He knows it shall look far better and be more well-received than Areadbhar would have been.

The rest of his visit goes well—he spends most of his time with his friends out of the castle gates, exploring the city and meeting with the common folk. Even without his crown, he is held in high favour to them, even _if_ he thinks he does not deserve it. 

As soon as the smith has finished the lance, he returns to the surface, and it's there that Dimitri runs into his next issue. He transforms back, dresses in the clothes he had left in the dry bag, thankfully undisturbed despite the week-long trip, and returns home walking carefully along the roads he knows. 

Dimitri is unsure where to put the lance. 

Normally— _traditionally_ —the gifted weapon was placed somewhere in the home, visible to anyone who came to visit. The weapon Dedue gifted Annette adorned one of the walls of their suites in the castle, and Dimitri has ideas of where they might put it, but the decision had to be mutual. And, of course, come after it was accepted. 

He knows Sylvain won't reject him, even if there is still a voice in the depths of his mind that tells him otherwise. He knows that as soon as he slips his ring back on, the metal cold after so long without his blood to warm it. Still, despite what he’s assured himself, their loft is not big enough to give Sylvain ample space to make the choice without Dimitri’s eye prying.

Not that he thinks Sylvain will understand he has a choice, anyway.

He's fretting again, looking at where the lance rests, propped against Sylvain's desk. It's a bad place for any weapon, especially one that has meaning behind it like this one. They're supposed to be proudly displayed in the home, but Dimitri has a feeling that none of their friends will find it as romantic of a story as it should be.

Except it _might_ pique Felix's interest. Maybe.

As soon as he decides he’s worried enough for his first day back, he goes to collect his phone. It’s been charging since he returned, and as soon as it turns on, its flooded with messages and missed calls ranging from Ingrid to Marianne, but the only ones he focuses on are Sylvain’s, most short and to the point, the last being one that almost concerns him that his secret’s been completely sussed out. _You’ve gone back to the Kingdom, right?? Try to go see Ferdie as soon as you’re back, he’s panicking. Love you!!_

He should’ve known that Sylvain would figure that much out at least. 

Still, he waits until the following morning to attempt any sort of conversations with the others, letting his muscles attempt to recover from transforming and the walk back home. 

The sun streams in from the opened curtains downstairs and Dimitri’s stomach gurgles as he looks through their fridge and pantry, the food within the cupboards looking unappealing and _tedious_. Leaving for as long as he had without planning ahead for food was really a mistake on his part. Sylvain had made certain he would have enough to get through, but he also expected Dimitri to be out and about with their friends for dinners and breakfasts.

He relents to grabbing his phone from the bed. Ferdinand answers halfway through the first ring, tone barely concealing his furiousness. 

“ _Dimitri!_ ” 

“Ah, good—”

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice hitching. 

“I am fine,” Dimitri says, slightly bewildered. He truly hadn’t been expecting to be yelled at first thing in the morning. “I did not mean to—”

“Then you are coming to the diner! _Right now!_ ”

“Ah—okay?” 

He resigns himself quickly, stuffing his feet into his boots to head out with the money Sylvain had left him for food in his pocket. The diner is not a far walk, closer to the beach than any of his other usual destinations. It’s still early enough that the city has hardly woken. The sky’s painted orange and pale yellow, clouds wisps across the expanse overhead. There’s the sounds of people just starting to wake for the day, shop doors opening, idly cars cruising down the road, early beach goers clambouring down the walkways with boards and umbrellas under their arms. 

The diner’s parking lot is practically empty when he reaches it, the overhead sign proclaiming the name half-out, the other side flickering weakly. He spots Ferdinand’s car, parked over by Dorothea’s and her coworkers to the side, leaving only two other spots taken. 

As soon as he pushes the door open, spotting Dorothea’s _other_ regular morning visitors at the end of the counter, Ferdinand’s voice is reaching his ears, slightly hysterical and full of distress. He looks like he’s dressed for a day at work, pressed shirt and slacks—a sharp contrast to Dorothea at his side, a bright red beacon amongst the diner’s backdrop.

“Dimitri!” Ferdinand’s hands are balled into trembling fists at his side. “You did not answer any calls or texts! Sylvain told me you were fine and were simply avoiding your phone, but how could I have believed him, when I was the last person to see you?” 

Dorothea lays a palm on his shoulder, gently pushing Ferdinand back into his seat. “It’s alright, Ferdie, see he’s fine! We worried over nothing!” She gives Dimitri a sharp look when he goes to sit across from him, poking a manicured nail into his chest. "Don't you _ever_ do that again." 

"I won't," he promises. “It was a. . .spur of the moment thing.”

Dorothea narrows her eyes at him before she hums, seeing whatever she was searching for in his expression. "Good.” She lifts her chin. “I'll go grab you a water." 

He thanks her as she walks away, her shoes barely scuffing over the tiled floor as he moves to the booth, taking the open seat across from Ferdinand. "My apologies," he says, settling down. "I do not care for phones that much." 

Ferdinand puffs a breath out. "Even so! It is negligent to let us worry so much!" He huffs another breath before his shoulders relax. "Your apology is accepted, of course. I just wish you would have told us what you were doing.” 

“I was getting something from my home for Sylvain,” he explains, clearing his throat. Dorothea appears with a glass of water for him, and he thanks her, taking in her expectant expression as she waits for him to continue. “There are. . .traditions, in my family, that we do for engagements. I wanted to surprise Sylvain when he returned with it.”

Dorothea coos a soft, “ _Aww,_ ” before her tone sharpens. “You still could’ve brought your cell phone.”

Even if it could survive the ocean, and his claws could type on the screen, Dimitri has his doubts that he’d be able to receive even the weakest of signals in the Kingdom. He doesn’t bother telling this to her, though, instead sheepishly agreeing and apologizing, which earns him a quick cheek pinch.

“Stop apologizing for it, it’s fine. I’ve already texted the group chat to let everyone know you’re _alive_. You look hungry, though, so, c’mon—,” she whips out her notepad, “—tell me what you want to eat.”

**.**

Dimitri sits on the soft rug in front of the TV, wearing one of Sylvain’s hoodies, hugging a pillow to his chest as he watches, enraptured, as a lioness sprints across a grassland. He knows firsthand the benefits of hunting with others, but watching animals enact it on land always fascinates him. Despite the documentary holding his attention, his ears are still perked to listen for any sounds of the Fraldarius’ car, heralding Sylvain’s return.

The cats have just surrounded their prey when he hears a car slow down outside, and he all but flings the pillow away from him, scrambling to his feet. He stumbles in his haste, but catches himself on the doorframe as he slips his sandals on, hands reaching for the lock as he wrenches the door open. 

Sylvain’s unfolding himself from the backseat as the door slams open and he looks up, half-startled, but the grin on his face is breathtaking. 

Dimitri barely hears Rodrigue, all of his senses honed in on Sylvain and how he’s half-turning away from the car towards him. It’s a short-lived focus—Sylvain’s bag comes flying out of the car, Felix’s strength put behind it to propel it against Sylvain’s chest. He stumbles back with an _oof!_ as he clutches it to him. Before he even has a chance to fully recover, Felix’s arm is snaking out to grab the door and slam it shut. 

Sylvain laughs good-naturedly, shifting the bag in his arms to salute Rodrigue as he passes the car to come up the stairs _back to him_ , and Dimitri’s practically vibrating, desperate to get his hands back on him. Sylvain steps up, and Dimitri leans forward, fingers clenching around greedy handfuls of his shirt to tug him to his mouth, which Sylvain huffs a laugh into before tilting his head to kiss him properly. 

He tugs him with him as he stumbles back into their home, kicking his shoes off. Sylvain breathes words between their kisses, warm and affectionate, soft and for him alone. _Missed you, love you, glad I’m back_. Dimitri matches it with his own greetings, pet names falling from his lips as his hands roam up fingers trailing down his neck, distress filling him at the lack of marks along Sylvain’s freckled skin.

“Think they all healed,” Sylvain says, finally putting enough space between them. “You can give me some more later.” He leans back against the door, properly taking his shoes off and setting his bag down, catching Dimitri’s hands with his own before they can go for his thighs to hoist him upstairs. “Hold _on_ , love, please.”

“I missed you,” Dimitri protests, surging back, fingers tightening against his to nuzzle into his neck, pressing featherlight kisses against his skin. 

Sylvain chuckles, his hands moving to tangle in Dimitri’s hair and pull him away from his neck, fingers tightening just enough to make Dimitri hiss out, teeth baring in a small sneer that Sylvain placates with a soft kiss. “I missed you, too, sweetheart, but I have spent five hours in a car with Felix and Glenn today, I want to shower first.”

Dimitri huffs, trying to box Sylvain against the door, but Sylvain slips away. 

“I would invite you to shower _with_ me, but we both know how last time went. It’ll be super fast, I promise, just—” 

He stops short and Dimitri, who’s been pouting at the door where he had been, twists his head to look over his shoulder. Sylvain’s head is craned back, looking up at the loft railing, where just above the edge of it, the lance is clearly visible, still leaning against his desk. The sharpened point of the blade shimmers low in the light pouring in from the sliding glass doors, the gold beneath it glinting.

Sylvain lifts a hand, fingers curling loosely to point as Dimitri feels heat explode across his face, burning down his neck and chest.

“What. . .is that?”

“It’s—ah.” 

Sylvain looks to him, tilting his head, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowing, and Dimitri truly wishes he had just been able to keep him pinned against the front door. 

“You look flustered,” Sylvain says. “You went to the Kingdom, though, right? Why bring back a lance? Was it a gift?”

Dimitri stammers out a few non-words, sounds falling from his tongue. He can’t look Sylvain in the eye, but he can see the way he looks from the weapon, down to him, and back up.

"I don't mind, if that's what you're worried about," he says, sidling closer. His hand slips around Dimitri's waist, tugging him close to his side. 

"I'm not—," _worried_. He stops before he says it, taking a breath, knowing his face is still bright red. Sylvain's gaze is open, questioning but not judging when Dimitri brings his eye up. "I fear I did what you did."

That brings a crease to his brow, his hand tightening at his waist. "What did you do?"

"The lance." Dimitri takes in another steadying breath, exhaling slowly as he thinks over his words, glancing down to where Sylvain's hand rests against his waist, the metal of his ring standing out against his knuckle. "When we—merfolk, I mean—wish to marry, like humans do, we present our beloved with a weapon. It's supposed to be decorative, to signify a lifetime of hunting together, but I—. I know we _technically_ have promised already, I just—"

" _Dimitri_."

The way Sylvain breathes his name, full of reverence, a prayer just for him, makes Dimitri startle, looking back to him. His eyes are wide, honeyed-amber shimmering with honest emotion, pure affection. The hand that isn't on his waist lifts, fingers curling a lock of hair behind his ear before his knuckles trail gently down his jaw, guiding his mouth forward to meet in a chaste kiss.

"I love it," he whispers, lips brushing his with every movement. "I love you. Thank you for doing this."

Dimitri feels a burn behind his eye, the threat of tears at how overwhelmed he feels persistent. He keeps his eye squeezed close, gripping at the front of Sylvain's shirt.

"It was silly, I know—."

"It was _not_ ," Sylvain insists. "It's part of your culture. Will you tell me more?"

"I—yes." He blinks his eye open. Sylvain's still staring at him, intense emotion writ across his face. "Yes, I can."

"Thank you," he says, again. "Tell me while we shower."

" _Wh_ —?"

Dimitri doesn't have time to finish his question. Sylvain's tangling his fingers with his, tugging him towards the spiral stairs up to the loft.

"Is that real gold?" is what Sylvain asks, when they're up on the landing, hurrying towards his desk to get a better look.

"Most of our weapons _are_ gold," Dimitri says. 

"Right, saltwater." 

He strips as he looks it over, tugging his shirt up over his head, and as soon as the muscles of his back and shoulders are exposed, any nerves Dimitri had rush away, pulled along a riptide. He moves as Sylvain grabs the lance, inexperienced hands gripping it to test its weight, and Dimitri slips up behind him, arms winding around his waist, teeth meeting the juncture of his neck and shoulder before he can stop himself.

Sylvain lets out a choked laugh, tilting his head to give Dimitri more room as his tongue laves over the mark left in his skin. "Shower. Right." He leans the lance back against the desk with one hand, the other reaching up to tangle in his hair. "Shower, then bed."

Dimitri's growl is met with a grin, an affirmation neither can deny as Sylvain breaks away to tug him towards the bathroom.

**.**

The lance rests against the wall above the kitchen island, hanging horizontally below the loft railing, the display built carefully in Hilda's workshop with designs based on the sword displays Felix has, by Sylvain and her while Dimitri was sequestered to wait outside due to over worrying.

Sylvain hasn't told the others yet, Dimitri knows. Hilda was just given measurements to help Sylvain come up with a design that matched, and Dimitri has to admit that it looks beautiful, sitting in full view of the front door, the metal shining in the lights.

It's first shown off to Hilda, in a text message from Sylvain once he's gotten it displayed properly, and her response of thumbs up emojis both entertains and baffles Dimitri. 

The first to see it in person are Ingrid and Felix, invited over for a movie marathon night for a batch Sylvain swears up and down Dimitri will love. Sylvain had gone to pick them, and snacks, up and Dimitri is curled up in the pillow nest they had made spread out in front of the couch when the front door opens.

Ingrid doesn't notice it, as she bends to take her shoes off properly. Sylvain toes his off, arms laden with grocery bags, and he hurries to the kitchen island to set them down. Dimitri supposes it's fitting that Felix's eyes go to it first, when he kicks his shoes off and lets them thud against their shoe cupboard. His eyes go to Dimitri first as he stalks in, and Dimitri watches as his eyes flick up and he stops short.

"What the fuck is that." His question is posed like a statement and he whirls on Dimitri, still nestled in blankets. " _That's_ what you got?"

"Whoa," Ingrid breathes. "It's beautiful—but, um. Why?"

"Because he loves me, Ingy, and got me a sick lance," calls Sylvain, still unpacking snacks from the bags. “Are we going to question why Felix has twelve swords on his wall?”

"It _should_ 've been a sword," Felix mutters under his breath, marching up to the island, his arms crossing as he cranes his neck up. "Why's it so high up?"

"So you can't reach it," Sylvain answers, breezily, shooting Dimitri a grin and a wink when they catch each other's gaze.

"I can't believe you made Ferdinand go grey before he's thirty because you forgot your cell on a trip to get a lance for Sylvain," says Ingrid, shaking her head with a soft snort as she approaches and flops.

"Well, I thought it was sweet," Sylvain says, arms full of drinks and snacks that he carries over to them, settling in the blankets beside Dimitri, tucked in the corner to reach the closest flat surface to set everything down. "Hurry up, Fe, you don't need to gawk at it."

As Ingrid fusses to get the movie playing, Felix makes his way over, plopping unceremoniously next to Dimitri, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't relax until Ingrid's leapt up to run to the bathroom before the movie starts and Sylvain's flung his legs across Dimitri's thighs so his feet rest in Felix's lap.

"I still don't understand why it was so important."

"It's as important to us as rings are to you," Dimitri says, shrugging at the narrowed look he's given. "If you'd like, I can tell Claude you prefer swords."

Sylvain, halfway through a sip of his drink, chokes, while Felix's face goes from neutral to furiously red in the blink of an eye.

Dimitri thinks the pillow that gets smacked into his face is worth it, as the sound of Sylvain's choked off, coughed laughter fills his ears alongside Felix's indignant, angry squawks.

**Author's Note:**

> listen I know I said woven sea lace was the final thing for this au but i uhhhh lied! and was not keeping this much of a secret on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/wintersrose616)


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